


Gift of The Gabe

by DementedPixie



Series: Demented Pixie's SPN Fic [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s13e13 Devil's Bargain, Gabriel (Supernatural) Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt Gabriel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sabriel if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:10:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drwhogirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwhogirl/gifts), [RainWritesStuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainWritesStuff/gifts).



All he had ever done was speak. He was an expert at persuasion, seduction, humour. He could talk his way into trouble and back out again without batting an eyelash. But now, now all he could do was listen. 

The sounds had been muffled at first, not even warranting his full attention as he slumped on the stone seat at the rear of the cell. This day, like all the others, had been all about staring at the flagstone floor in desperation, trying to take his mind off the searing pain caused by the metal staples that were sealing his mouth shut.

It started to sound a bit like a fight, and a tiny spark piqued his interest. Just a tiny one. They were always fighting in hell, so today would be no different, really. Once, not long ago, he had been sure he’d heard two voices he knew well, Castiel and Lucifer, fighting in the hall near his cell. But he’d convinced himself it had been another hallucination. 

This fight was especially noisy and beginning to be annoying, so he rested his elbows on his knees so that he could put his hands over his ears, closing his eyes as well. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to see it. He just wanted to be left alone. Since he’d been dragged to this place, so long ago, that was all he’d ever wanted. 

There were voices, near the door to his cell. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone... He cursed his traitorous hands as they relaxed, letting a little of the noise in.

“Which one, Ketch?”

“Over there, third door.”

“Is this gonna work?”

“That demon was ready to die for it, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

“Let me try.”

“Back off, Cass.”

“It’s my brother!”

“It’s not a competition!”

“Stop it! Both of you. Just give me the key.”

“Hey, there’s a little window in the door.”

“My God.”

“Oh, that’s just so wrong.”

“Jesus. Get me in there. Now!”

The door to the cell creaked open and there was the sound of several pairs of feet crowding into the small space.

One person approached.

There was an embarrassed cough. 

There was definite shuffling. 

“Umm... Gabriel? Can you open your eyes for me?”

The voice was close, soft, enticing. He recognised it. 

He risked opening his eyes to allow a crack of light in. 

As hallucinations go, it was a bloody good one.

Sam Winchester was kneeling before him, gazing at him with concern and one might say open adoration on his face. 

Behind him, was a stern looking Dean Winchester. Not surprising, as Gabriel was always of the opinion that the two brothers were joined at the hip. What was more of a surprise was the appearance of Castiel, standing closer to Dean than Sam ever stood. So maybe it hadn’t been a dream, the voices he had heard before. Maybe Castiel was alive, after all.

Maybe they both were.

Which meant that maybe, just maybe, this was really happening.

“Can you stand?” asked Sam, his voice still soft. 

Gabriel gazed at Sam’s long hair and his handsome face. He wondered how they looked together, the contrast between them must be almost ridiculous. 

Sam was still waiting for a reply but Gabriel didn’t know how to respond.

“Sam, we need to get moving. Carry him if you have to,” barked Dean. 

Sam stood up and leaned forward, moving one of Gabriel’s hands away from his ears so that he could whisper to him.

“I’ll try not to hurt you.”

He carefully manoeuvred the stricken Archangel so that he could lift him, bridal style, (in a previous life he would have given Sam hell for that, but now it didn’t seem to matter) into his arms. 

Gabriel clutched a handful of flannel, suddenly aware of how far above the ground he was. That Moose was so damned tall. 

“Gentlemen, we’re going to have company.” Ketch peered into the cell from where he had been keeping watch, and Gabriel whimpered behind his stitches, suddenly terrified that they were about to be betrayed. 

“It’s okay,” reassured Sam, “he’s on our side.”

“Cass,” said Dean, turning towards the angel. “Let’s get outta here.”

Looking just about as determined as he had ever been, Castiel led the Winchesters out of the cell, his angel blade drawn before him.

“Ketch?” asked Dean. “You coming?”

“I need to appease Asmodeus, keep him on side. I’ll be in touch,” replied the Englishman. “Take care of the Archangel, and keep him away from Asmodeus. Trust me, it won’t end well if he gets his hands on him again. “

“Okay,”nodded Dean. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Ketch,” said Sam, sincerely. 

And then the fight was on again. 

******

The sounds were different now.

There had been the sound of the Impala’s engine, as the iconic beast had carried them home. 

There was the reverberating clang of the Bunker’s front door being slammed shut, securing their place of sanctuary from those who would do them harm. 

There were quiet mumblings, words of advice and confirmation, as medical supplies were brought to his bedside and laid out neatly beside him. 

There had been sobs, cries of pain. He was pretty sure he had made those. 

He had been held and rocked in Sam’s strong arms as Dean removed the stitches and tended his many wounds. 

Castiel was there too, concerned, supportive, even holding his hand at one point. 

None of them made him feel weak, or helpless, even though that’s exactly what he was. 

In a previous existence he would have done anything rather than show his pain and vulnerability to anyone else, but the only thing that now mattered was that these friends, his family, were easing his pain and being kind to him. When the last stitch came out he sobbed so hard into Sam’s shirt it became damp with tears. 

And Gabriel didn’t care one bit. 

He was home.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean glanced up from where he was busily stirring a large cooking pot on the stove. “Oh, hi, Cass. You okay?”

“You’re cooking?” asked Castiel, always one for stating the obvious. 

“Soup. Carrot and coriander. Should be good and tasty and not involve too much chewing.”

“I see.” Castiel tilted his head to one side as he thought about what Dean had just said. “You do know that Archangels shouldn’t really need to eat.”

Dean reached into the cupboard to get some pepper which he added to the pot. “No, well, Sammy’s just trying to help him heal, you know? And he used to eat candy bars so we thought, Sammy thought, that maybe he’d go for some soup.”

“So you cooked some. That’s very kind of you, Dean.”

Dean blushed, rubbing his spare hand around the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“No-one should be treated like he was, not even a Trickster who killed me like a million times.”

“No,” agreed Castiel. “I just wish I had the power to heal him.”

“You’re doing all you can,” said Dean, reaching for the food blender and plugging it in. “He knows that.”

Just then they were joined by the younger Winchester brother, evidently on the look out for the promised soup. 

“Sam,” said Castiel, placing a hand on his arm in concern. “You look terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Don’t you start on me, Cass. I’ve already had the third degree from Dean.”

“I told you, Sammy,” said Dean, “that you’ll be no good to him if you wear yourself out.”

“I’ll sleep when he does. Is it ready?”

In response, Dean turned on the blender and started to reduce the soup to a puree. 

Sam took out a tray and loaded it up with a bowl for the soup, a spoon, a glass of fruit juice, and a tub of cotton candy that he had found in the back of the cupboard. 

Soup finished, Dean ladled some into the bowl on the tray as well as three others that he had set out on the counter top. 

“You’re not going back in there until you eat too, Sammy,” he said, firmly. “No arguing.”

Sam hesitated for a moment, looking at the soup, then at the empathetic expressions on the faces of his brother and his best friend. 

“Okay,” he said, with a sigh. “I guess I can sit and eat with you for a minute.”

The three men sat on stools at the counter and slurped at the soup. Even Castiel, who usually only tasted molecules, seemed to enjoy it, although Sam wondered privately if he could have been pretending for Dean’s benefit. 

“You’ll burn yourself if you eat it that fast,” commented Dean, as he watched his brother trying to almost inhale the creamy orange liquid in as quick a time as possible. 

“I don’t want to leave him,” said Sam, scrapping his spoon around the bottom of the bowl. “Is that so hard to understand?”

“Is he speaking yet?” asked Castiel.

Sam shook his head. “I can’t get him to eat, drink or speak. I’m not giving up on him. He has to know that.”

“I’m sure he does,” replied Castiel. “We angels understand more about you Winchesters than perhaps you appreciate.”

Dean blushed again, so much so that he didn’t even complain when Sam rose to his feet to leave, picking up the tray as he did so. 

“Thanks, Dean,” he said. “That was good. I just hope he’ll try some.”

“Call us if you need anything,” replied his brother, satisfied that he was doing his best to look after Sam, so that Sam could look after Gabriel.

******

“Hey.” 

Used to receiving no reply, Sam put the tray on the bedside table then took a seat on the chair that had been pulled close to the bed. 

“Think you could eat something yet? Dean made it and before you complain, it’s really good. I didn’t get as big as I am now by being brought up on… Lucky Charms. Dean cooked for me when we were kids.” Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. “He did! Anyway, he cooked this for you, and I think it will do you good.”

Sam loaded the spoon with some of the now cooling soup and held it towards Gabriel, who resolutely clamped his lips firmly shut. 

“Gabe, please. I just want you to be strong again. Please. For me?”

There was still no response from the injured Archangel, so Sam decided to change his plans. Dropping the spoon back into the bowl he reached instead for the plastic tub, pulling the lid off before helping himself to a handful of pink, sweet, cotton candy. 

“Whoa, sugar rush,” he said, stuffing it in his own mouth while at the same time watching Gabriel carefully for a reaction. 

For a moment, there wasn’t one. Then came a tiny movement. The dry, cracked mouth parted, minutely, as Gabriel tentatively licked his lips. 

“Want some?” asked Sam, his voice almost a whisper. 

Gabriel nodded, all be it with the air of a man who believed this would all be snatched away from him at any moment. 

Sam pulled another piece of the cotton candy and offered it to Gabriel, holding it just a few inches away from his damaged mouth. 

Slowly, Gabriel leaned his head forward, as Sam eased the pink fluffy cloud of candy between Gabriel’s lips. 

Gabriel’s pupils dilated, immediately giving his eyes more life than they had shown since he had been rescued. They seemed to shine like butter toffee, as the sugar did its work. 

“Good?” whispered Sam.

He didn’t expect a reply. After all, Gabriel hadn’t spoken a word since the stitches had been removed, only managing to utter cries of pain. 

“Sugar,” Gabriel mumbled, his voice gravelly from mis-use. “Sammy.”

Sam grinned widely, before offering some more of the pink cotton candy. 

“More?” 

Gabriel shook his head in response. “Kiss.”

“Kiss?”

This time it was Sam’s turn to blush, because one thing he would never have guessed was that an Archangel’s lips would taste of honey. 

When Dean came to check on them a few hours later, he didn’t stay long. One look at the two peacefully sleeping men, curled up together in the too small bed, was enough.


End file.
